Rain isn't uncommon in Egypt - but heavy rain certainly is! - Exposed to a rougher than normal spring, the lower levels and poorer areas of Cairo - not to mention some of the main thoroughfares from the Nile to the capitol's centre - have become flooded with water as the river overswells its banks. In some places ankle deep, in others, it moves to the knee, the people of Cairo - both rich and poor - head to the river to either witness or lend a hand in sandbagging the banks and bailing water back to its home, or directing the river to the rice paddies, before it can start to seep into the foundations of buildings and weaken the structures of their homes...
With all the problems that his Hei faced, a flood was the last of them. Just the week before, Narmer had found himself caught in yet another bout of serious insomnia as sleep eluded him. Instead, what had filled his mind was thoughts of how and where he would gain the cash from his depleting treasury to fix the highest levels of the family residence. Just a month ago, the Head had instructed for the whole family to now take up residence in the first floor of the three storey Haikaddad residence, leaving the topmost floor of their family estate closed off, even to the cleaning of servants. Reducing the area to be cleaned meant Narmer would have less things to buy, easing off some of the household accountings.
And right now, they could use every coin he could pinch.
It was a problem with being an established noble house, really. With the heritage and history, came expectations of the house, expectations that weighed heavily on the shoulders of young Narmer. Not one brought up to take on the leadership role, each day was an uphill climb, and while many told him it would get easier... in truth, Narmer was still waiting for that day.
He had spent the night this week, watching the rain fill the Nile river. It had started off welcome, a boon for the crops, and good crops meant great income for the house. But as the river levels rose, so had Narmer's anxiety. By the time water started spilling through the banks and into the village and capitol centre, the young Head had haphazardly threw on a robe over his kethoneth, and darted out the building. But what could he do against the force of Mother Nature?
It had been another sleepless night for Narmer when the sun finally rose, illuminating the capitol and showing everyone just how heavy one's eyebags could be. Having taken almost all morning to sort out the damage the rising water levels were inflicting on the Haikaddad saraaya, and how much it would cost to fix it all (an amount Narmer would need to sell even more of his family's heritage gold to have), the Head eventually headed out to the rest of the city.
Eschewing footwear, since it would get soaked and sodden anyway, instead Narmer had donned his usual linen simlah, plain in color, and waded out to see if he could be of assistance. Heading towards the river, with a pace slower then usual due to having to wade through knee deep waters, Narmer greeted people solemnly, his smile less joyful as it usually is as he helped pass sandbags. He had instructed both his nieces to remain at home with their mother, but his nephew would likely follow suit very soon, for Kissan would have to learn soon on how to be a proper leader. Even till today, Narmer was entirely unsure if he wanted to allow his children to take on the helm of leadership, or allow Kissan to take what his father, Narutt, would have left for him.
Shaking his head to rid himself of the sudden question, he cleared his throat, before returning to assist in the re-directing of the water to rice paddies. Mother Nature would listen to none, so they had to work fast afore anything could happen to the structure of the homes in Cairo.
The rains, like an uninvited party guest, had come and gone and left chaos behind them. Berenike, seated on a fluffy feather cushion under a portico in her garden, had watched the torrential downpour with quiet interest. Nunu, her brown cat, had been sitting at her feet, still as a statue while she, too, watched. It wasn’t often heavy rains occurred like this, so everything and everyone came to a stop to watch the downpour.
The mood of the house had been solemn and quiet the day of the storm. The servants were unusually quiet, speaking in hushed tones about relatives and friends who were sure to be flooded. The following the day, Amon’ra and his three daughters went to the city proper to offer their help in any way they could.
As a noblewoman, Berenike’s home was high and dry. It was mostly the poor that had been properly flooded. ”Better them than us!” She could recall a former tutor saying some years ago, though she didn’t agree wholly. Yes, she was grateful that she was fine, but what of the people who weren’t? Still, all kinds of people came together to help their fellow man. Rich and poor men alike helped distribute sandbags and redirect the floodwaters to the rice patties. It was touching to see, really.
Berenike stood with the other women in one of the few dry places. She was helping to distribute necessities to people. She handed out water for the men working hard in the hot sun and then, when she tired of that, she asked to help give medical supplies to those who needed them. Not many people needed medical supplies as a direct result of the flood (it hadn’t been that catastrophic) but a few came who had received some nasty cuts.
One man had slipped while helping with sandbagging and put a superficial gash on his head. Cuts on the head always bled a lot and looked worse than they really were. A trained nurse helped him as he bled through multiple bandages before a scab formed. Another woman’s young child had cut his feet on broken glass concealed by dirty floodwaters.
Berenike wondered what their fate would be after they left, as she would likely never see them again. While she had a limited knowledge of medicine, she did know that infection could set in suddenly and send someone to Anubis within a day. She had seen much lesser wounds get infected, too.
As the day wore on, Berenike felt connected to the people in a way she hadn’t before. Most of the time, she was painfully aware of the gap that separated her social class from the others. Most of the time, she avoided these people like the plague. But not today. Today, everybody was one. Instead of being just noblemen and peasants, pharaohs and slaves, they were all just Egyptians helping one another.
There was that scent that came with the rains, hard to define but persistent. Safiya associated it most with the sense of change being on the horizon, although it was most often not the kind of change that would be notable once a few months had passed. Instead, it was most often a new gift, some festival which brought a stolen kiss or the appearance of a new figure for a time within her social circle. Even on one occasion the appearance of an entirely new story, that was one of her better memories, in fact, so strong was the association that Safiya had spent much of the morning reading it again.
Safiya supposed that it was a little foolish and something of a waste of time as well, given how many times she had read it already and also that her own twin had been the original author of this story and it therefore had all the characters she loved best as well as the kind of adventure which Saiya had always longed to make her own. She couldn't pretend that it hadn't been intended as a gift of sorts and it was why she had treasured it from the moment Sameera had declared it finished and said that she could then read it. Even though this was far from the first time she had read the material it still managed to retain that sense of wonder and the pleasure in that first instance. But it did mean she could pause and not regret the delay in finishing it. She knew how it ended, after all.
But she didn't know what else might be happening outside, so while she would waste the hours as the rain lessened and finally ceased it was hard for her to find the same ability to remain still and quiet now that it was over.
That was why she had felt so frustrated at being told to remain behind when her uncle had departed. Why shouldn't she come along? It wouldn't be the first time that she'd gone barefoot, surely if he could handle the water and mess then so could she, more importantly Safiya was also aware that it would give her the valuable opportunity to be able to see some of the changes first hand and she was incredibly curious about what was going on.
However, Safiya was perfectly aware of the fact she needed to heed her uncle, even though she didn't want too but sitting around and doing nothing was no longer going to be possible. She couldn't be idle now. That was why she rushed up to try and see him, watching his figure leaving their home and wading through the high tide from the river breaking its banks. Safiya couldn't remember anything like this happening before or if it had it had been when she had been much younger, leaning forward to cup her chin in her hands she watched his departure and sighed.
You could sneak out. Safiya did know better but the temptation was tugging very directly in that space in her being from which sprang all the wilder of her ideas. The question now was would common sense or her need for adventure win out and make her next decision.
As he reached the capitol, it was clear that the people of Cairo had long started the contingency plans that would be put in action in situation such as these. Narmer walked in on a line of commoners handing out necessities and sandbags to redirect the floodwaters, and worried as he was on the aftermath of the damage the flood would do, a certain sense of warmth filled him as he saw the way the people of Cairo worked together to help each other in time's of need.
Wading his way in the ankle-deep water, Narmer greeted people as he went, assuring them that as soon as the waters subsided, the Haikaddad Hei would be sending out servants to help them, scarce as their numbers were. The man has had to greatly cull the number of servants in the house, closing half the Saraayaa to preserve whatever little coin they had left, with not much inflow of income. But whatever he had, he would give out. If his father and Narutt had taught him one thing, it was that no matter how little of help he could give, it was his duty to give it.
As such, he would do what he could.
Drawing nearer towards the capitol, though slow as his trek was, it did not take long before Narmer saw a temporary tent set up. Medical? Well, the flood had not been as damaging as say, a storm or an insurgent attack, but there was no doubt injuries would be abound when it came to assisting in the relief efforts. While his strengths would be more useful in terms of moving sandbags, of which Narmer would head to help with quite soon, he couldn't help but notice a woman of exceptional beauty.
While Narmer's recent return to Egyptian nobility, he has tried his best to remember as many faces as possible, and this was likely one he did not forget easily. Berenike H'Isazari was a beauty, one of three of the Isazari beauties. Her visage, as were her sisters, was hard to forget... but for Narmer, it may also be because the Hei itself was known not only for its beautiful woman, but for the Hei's financial backing. The members of the family came from merchants and traders, and from Narmer's brief visit to the Saraaya of the Isazari family as a child, he knew they were rich - and knew how to make the money roll.
Both qualities he needed to learn.
The man has been trying to learn from the father of the Isazari ladies, but the man was proving a hard person to pique, for he had three very powerful chess pieces to gain further power in the political scene of Egypt.
All Narmer wanted was some financial stability.
Still, it didn't hurt to try. With a firm smile on his face, Narmer approached Berenike and gave a respectful bow as she noted his presence, before addressing her in a respectful tone. "Lady Berenike, you are generous as you are beautiful, for assisting the people of Cairo today." It was a praise that he meant, although Narmer was aware of how fake it sounded. He was a military man, and definitely not one good with words. Hesitating as he sought out the proper next words to say, a moment of silence fell, before he asked again, "I do hope all is well in your Saraaya?"
Qen waded through the murky waters that gathered around his calves. He had removed his sandals, and his cloth skirt was cut well above his knees. His legs, already thick and heavily muscled, moved powerfully through the floating debris, which seemed to contain everything both natural and unnatural. Blades of glass mixed with the straw hair of a stuffed doll. The poor families of the city, already suffering in their daily arduous quests for mere sustenance, now countenanced even more pain and bitterness. Some would say the rain filling the Nile was cause for the flooding; many more would say that there was a higher power behind it. If there was an intelligence behind it, Qen could not see the reason, save to make the working, laboring people of the land endure more torment.
His son, Mahu, walked beside him, carrying their sandals among other things. Behind them both came their mount, bagged down with the majority of their belongings. They looked rather strange, a father and child, walking in rags, apart from all others. Few gave them much notice, however. Most were consumed with their own personal emergencies, each variations of the crucial task of saving their belongings from wet and ruin. Mahu would stop once and awhile and stare askance at some of them, but Qen would keep walking, and the boy would come back to their journey. Qen showed neither compassion nor contempt for the people he saw; he was indifferent, a stoic student of their misery. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, toward their destination.
Suddenly he stopped. It was so abrupt Mahu almost walked past him. The boy turned and saw Qen walking toward a tent. It was surrounded with injured people, none of them serious wounds. A healer was offering his or her services here, and by the number of visitors, her prices were reasonable, perhaps non-existent. Mahu did not know if his father was sick, but there was a lot about the father than the son did not know.
Qen entered the tent and saw a beautiful fair-skinned, blue-eyed woman talking with a tall, chiseled man who looked like a soldier. He knew enough of his people to recognize them as well-off. Qen, by contrast, was every bit the impoverished Egyptian commoner, albeit more athletic and scarred. The man talking to the beautiful man was scarred as well. He approached them, looking at each of them with a burning intensity. He waited for the moment to interject and then, speaking plainly, he said: “I need a healer.”
“Oh, Narmer! How good it is to see you!” Berenike said with a big smile and bowed respectfully. “You flatter me, sir.”
Narmer was handsome in an unconventional way. His individual body parts would not have looked good on anyone else, she thought. For example, his big eyes would look terrible on someone else, and his strong jaw even worse on another person. But somehow they all fit together in a way that was striking. So striking, in fact, that Berenike couldn’t help but steal glances at him whenever he was around.
She knew he was on her father’s radar, but she didn’t know what her father actually thought of Narmer. Certainly he respected all his accomplishments, her father wasn’t ignorant, but her father’s personal feelings weren’t obvious. He was a hard man to read, always polite and gracious but with an underlying hardness.
But Narmer was hard to read in his own right, too. He wasn’t the most talkative man she’d ever met, but he always spoke kindly to her, which she appreciated greatly.
“Yes,” Nicky responded to his question with a bright smile. “Everything is well, thank you for asking. And what about you, sir? Are you doing all right?”
She was only half interested, if she was being completely honest. Small talk was one of the most boring things to Berenike, but she did it out of obligation and she did it well.
“What a shame,” she said, gesturing to the wreckage all around them. She returned her hands to clasp them politely in front of her.
It was then that a common man and his child appeared. They looked worn and ragged, no doubt casualties of the flood. The man told her quickly and plainly what he needed. Berenike could tell by his tone that he was feeling impatient right now, which didn’t bother her in the slightest. The sick and hurt often lacked patience, especially when they were hurting greatly.
She smiled at him, looking him over to see if there was anything obviously wrong. If it was too serious, she would have to send him along to someone with more medical knowledge than swab this wound with honey and bandage it!
“What ails you, sir? Or is it the child?” She asked politely, looking from him to the boy. Behind them stood their mount, stomping at flies and swiveling its ears to listen to all the commotion around it.
The big smile and eager greeting Berenike returned was promising, and Narmer held on to that promise eagerly, although he hoped it did not show too obviously. His smile softened at the Isazari lady's bright response, shrugging as he gestured at the water levels around them helplessly. The sounds of water sloshing as people waded through was quite subdued, giving the whole of Cairo a less-then-happy look, and Narmer accompanied it with a wry grin of his own before he replied. "As best as we can be, although at least it looks as if we won't be facing a water crisis anytime soon." A ghost of a dry laugh came at the tail end of his words, for Narmer had never been one to take life too seriously. It was the curse of the second son maybe? He had never wanted, nor planned on taking on the position of head for his Hei.
But the Gods had different plans.
"A shame it is, but no matter. At least, it has brought me the grace of meeting you again. Are you here alone then?" Narmer pressed on, leaning on the haunches of his heels to make conversation. Before the lady could respond to him however, a cry of help directed both their attentions away, for his eyes to fall on a scarred man who looked at least military, if not of noble birth.
Cocking his head to a side at the newcomer's very abrupt annoucement, but in hindsight, he knew that any lack of manners was not intentional. In times of great stress and worry, people had little focus for ensuring someone else's gentle feelings were cared for as they searched for help.
Not as well versed as Berenike when it came to situations such as this however, Narmer held back as he allowed the lady to handle the situation. While the Egyptian was an experienced man in a battle or fight, his injuries had mostly been taken care of by physicians, and as such he would be more hindrance then help should he try and assist in this situation. Yet to walk away would seem coldhearted, and he would not need for such a reputation to precede him at this point, not when he needed all the support he could get for his fam.
As such, Narmer hung in the background, but remained alert for any call of his name should his assistance be required. His eyes however, roamed the area they were in, curious as to how else he could be of assistance, should a need arise.
While Safiya would never believe that she was a terrible person, or even the kind who liked to sneak around and listen into conversations, the temptation to observe was hard to escape. If her uncle was able to make jokes that it was clear he was not feeling quite so negative about everything that was happening, then again he'd not had the misfortune of running into his guardian after sneaking out of their home.
Admittedly Narmer didn't seem to have noticed her and that had provided Safiya with the time and the opportunity to think about whether or not she wanted to be caught. Had he seen her? At the moment it seemed like he was distracted but could she trust that was really the case or some kind of trick? Safiya was going to have to deal with both a deep sense of embarrassment about being discovered as well as it being Narmer who was here to witness all of this.
But then again, she was grateful that it wasn't her mother.
Basically, she was turning into a rapidly expanding ball of conflict and confusion right about now. Which was absolutely not the sort of emotional state to be in when her uncle started to pay attention to a lovely woman. Well, any woman. It hurt a whole lot more that she was lovely and that Narmer seemed to be so thrilled to see this person in the first place. Safiya was struggling not to act out or up and just when she had felt like she was capable of getting a hold of her temper and not sounding like a complete fool, because while she was about to end up in trouble she didn't need to make it any worse than it was already set to be.
She knew that he was going to have a lot to say, but Safiya decided that being brash about it all was the way ahead, or at least the way that was going to avoid her ending up a public punishment. It was a risk that she was prepared to take "Oh uncle! How lovely to see you this day. Isn't the weather an amazing thing?" Safiya wasn't sure how well that would end up going down with the man of her Hei and the one to whom everyone looked for both guidance and protection. However, then the man and his child turned up. It was clear that access to regular bathing had not been part of their normal hygiene routine. Safiya couldn't hide the way her nose crinkled ever so slightly "How do you know the lady, uncle?" she asked, he'd not troubled with introducing her but then they were not in ideal circumstances, and there hadn't really been time but Safiya was pretty sure that she'd not met the woman before now. It seemed like a good time to ask about it while she was dealing with the man and his son.
"She is very kind" and it was something that she both hated just a little bit, even as much as it was the kind of trait which was admirable in its own way as well. Safiya felt incredibly drained right now, she was more than a little bit frazzled about the whole thing and her own emotions about what was going on.
Safiya didn't push herself into getting the attention of the woman or even the man and his son, no she was prepared to wait and speak with her uncle who had also stepped back. Perhaps he might even be pleased to see her?
Without hesitation, Qen pushed the cloth down his right shoulder, revealing an improvised bandage barely clinging to his chest. With a gentle touch he pulled the bandage away, revealing a small circular wound that is still red and raw, if no longer bleeding. “I took an arrow to the shoulder,” he explained flatly. “I was able to remove it, but I think part of the arrowhead broke off inside. It’s starting to stink. I need a trained hand to open the wound back up and extract it, whatever it is. Stone, metal, I don’t know.” His eyes lingered awhile on the fair-skinned, blue-eyed beauty. “I would have asked the boy, but he doesn’t have the stomach for it.” He glanced down at Mahu.
“We were adventuring,” the boy said, somewhat red-faced.
“Hush, child,” Qen admonished gently. He turned his attention back to the woman. “I know that you are busy with these locals here and the flooding, but unlike most of them, I can pay.” In his experience, paying got you further than depending on charity, even when it came to good-hearted volunteers. Everyone regardless of birth or background was keen to get their hands on something they could spend. “I could also help you in some way as payment, although I’m more of a… soldier than a healer.”
He was no soldier, as he served no commander other than the thirst for vengeance. It was more apt to say that he was more accustomed to taking lives than saving them. Regardless, he wanted to charm this woman, not scare her by making himself out to be the roaming sword-for-hire that he was. It would be no easy task; just looking at the woman made him trip over his words and start to sweat. It was impossible not to be in her presence and not be affected by it. He wondered if she knew how lovely she was.
“I don’t have nothing wrong with me,” Mahu offered, somewhat proudly. “It was bandits what did it. I ran and hid.” He gave a nod, as if confirming his own story.
“It’s nothing worth speaking of,” Qen said dismissively, as if his wound was routine. “Please, if you can get it out, I’ll be more than happy to move on and leave you to these poor souls here.”